


The Father's Story

by torinosu



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Canon Backstory, Canon Compliant, Frottage, Grumpy Old Men, I'm Sorry, M/M, but gayer, kind of cheating?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 12:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18234995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torinosu/pseuds/torinosu
Summary: When Tatsuma reaches the Sacred Flame and joins his hands together in prayer, the only thing rattling through his mind is that he knows his father is right. There is nothing more important than his sacred duty, and protecting Myodha, its people, Torako and their baby.And as his head is bent and his eyes are closed, the man falls from the sky.





	The Father's Story

_My name is Tatsuma Suguro. You must wonder why a complete stranger is writing to you…so I will start from the beginning. This is how I met Shiro Fujimoto, the man who raised you._

 

*

 

He grips his wife’s pale, clammy hand, and her breathing labours. “Tatsuma” she says, so quiet he can barely hear her, “I am fine, the baby is fine, you don’t have to sit here with me”

He shifts on his haunches, the strain on his ankles is growing unbearable and he has no idea how long he’s sat beside her for, “Torako” He tells her, “I will sit here as long as it takes until you are better” She chuckles at that, but it’s a thin, painful sound. The spores on her face from the miasma are sore looking and red, “As stubborn as ever. You have important work to do. The baby and I will be here when you get back”

His father yells at him in front of Shima and Konekomaru again. The same old song; how he’s a bad son, a bad monk, for neglecting his duties, for placing his sickly wife above the sacred order. His father has miasma on his face too, crusty, bulbous and red. It makes Tatsuma sick to look at it.

“If she dies, you will have to find a stronger wife to produce an heir” He says. Tatsuma looks at the ground. He has often wondered if his father knows that he does not love Torako as a man should love his wife. She is his best friend, though, and he thinks about their baby, not as an heir to the Suguro line, but as a person, a little piece of Torako and himself.

“You must pray to Buddha every day!” His father yells, “Or he will forsake you”

“I’m tired of praying!” Tatsuma screams back, and a small part of him is pleased when his father’s eyes widen, “What good has it done? People are still dying!”

“When I am gone, you’ll learn this temple’s secrets” His father chokes out, coughing. Tatsuma reaches a hand out but the man smacks it away, “and you will spend the rest of your life protecting it. It is your duty” He turns and walks away, “I’m going back to work, as should you”

When Tatsuma reaches the Sacred Flame and joins his hands together in prayer, the only thing rattling through his mind is that he knows his father is right. There is nothing more important than his sacred duty, and protecting Myodha, its people, Torako and their baby. And as his head is bent and his eyes are closed, the man falls from the sky.

 

*

 

It crashes down to earth in a mass of feathers, blood and teeth, bigger than any bird. Some sort of demon, Tatsuma’s mind provides in its shock, not even registering that the thing has completely obliterated the Sacred Flame until after the man stands and speaks.

“That really hurt!” The man exclaims, standing up and wincing. He throws the Koma sword’s wooden box out of his way as if it’s nothing but trash, and it hits Tatsuma square in the nose with a crunch.

“The Sacred Flame” He registers Shima yelling somewhere to his right, “He’s extinguished it!”

“Too many monsters on this mountain” The man drawls, ignoring the monk’s protests, “I only came lightly armed” He scoffs, “I never should have listened to Mephisto”

Tatsuma’s ears are ringing as he sits up and tries to stem the blood from his nose with his sleeve. It feels like his nose is swelling like a balloon. “Who are you?” He says, and the guy tilts his head lazily to look at him through narrowed eyes, “You destroyed our ritual!”

“You mean this?” The man bends to pick up something from the monster’s mass of matted feathers, and Tatsuma stiffens, he can feel Shima start beside him as well, “This is the Koma sword, right?” He shrugs the sword over his shoulder and glares down at them, “I need this. I’m taking it”

“Wait!” Tatsuma cries, drawing the man’s eyes back to him, “That sword is our principal object of worship, do you even understand? Myodha has protected it for generations, you can’t just..."

The man scoffs, still looking bored even though he’s starting to shiver from the cold, “Tell me something I don’t know, Baldy” He smirks, “besides, you don’t need it. It’s empty, right?” Tatsuma feels himself actually gasp at the man’s words but it’s drowned out by Shima lunging towards the newcomer, screaming, “Blasphemy!”

“Wait, Yaozo!”

“Keep your filthy hands off of it, you common thief!” Shima swings out his K’rik with a clack of metal but the man dodges the attack easily. He leers at Shima, but in a split second his eyes roll back and he passes out, Koma sword still clutched in his hand.

“Uh” Shima says, hesitating, then prods the guy with the end of his K’rik, “The idiot’s already badly injured” He exclaims, “must be from the fall”

Konekomaru rushes to his side, scrambling up the monster’s body and kneeling in the feathers, “This is bad, how was he still standing, let alone picking a fight” he says, and presses his fingertips to the man’s pulse point under the crook of his jaw, “Who is he? He’s dressed like a cleric”

Tatsuma follows the others to the man’s side. “He’s alive, barely” Konekomaru looks up at him, “What should we do, Tatsuma? Just toss him down the side of the mountain?”

Tatsuma grits his teeth and watches the man wheeze a couple of breaths. The snow starts falling again, settling on his face and making his swollen nose sting. He sighs deeply, “No. Let’s…take him in. See what he can say to explain himself” 

 

*

 

Tatsuma shares his time between the thief’s bedside and Torako’s. Both of them are asleep, though Torako does wake for long enough to assure him that she’s fine, which is still of no comfort to him.

It takes a day for the man to come to, and when he does he scrunches his face up, touches the bandages that Konekomaru secured around his head injury.

“So you’re a Senior Exorcist, First Class, for the Knights of the True Cross” Tatsuma says softly, reading from the man’s ID card that they found inside his coat, along with a gun, silver bullets and a pack of cigarettes, “Shiro Fujimoto”

Fujimoto starts, like he didn’t realise Tatsuma was there, but quickly covers it up with a smirk, “I’m thirty-four; my favourite food is daikon oden and I like girls with big tits. Anything else you want to know?” He grabs a cigarette from the pack laying on the floor beside him as he sits up, “Got a light?”

Tatsuma grabs the cigarette from his mouth and crushes it in his fist, ignoring Fujimoto’s protests, “How much do you know about Kurikara?”

“…The sword? Shit, I don’t know. Not much” Fujimoto shrugs lazily; He looks young for thirty-four, even with his greying hair, “I’m just following orders, Baldy”

“My name is Tatsuma Suguro, and I am the son of the head priest here. You will tell me what you know”

“Geez, sorry” Fujimoto rolls his eyes, “all I know is, the top brass want the sword to kill some kid” He shrugs again like he hasn’t just shattered something within Tatsuma.

He jumps to his feet, “A…child?” He thinks of the tiny, nameless thing growing inside Torako, “You…need to leave. I won’t keep a child killer here”

“Fine, I’ll go” Fujimoto slides his glasses on and pops another cigarette between his lips as he stands, “Just give me the Koma sword and I’ll be out of your hair, so to speak” His eyes flick to Tatsuma’s head and he smirks.

Tatsuma sees red, “I’ll never tell you where it is!”

Fujimoto crowds him into a corner, leans over him and narrows his eyes. Tatsuma can feel his pulse starts to quicken, and his breath comes out harsher than he means it to when Fujimoto pushes a knee between his legs. “Then I guess” Fujimoto murmurs, leaning in impossibly close, “I’ll just have to ransack the place until I find it” He leans in closer, pushing his knee higher, his arm resting on the wall just above Tatsuma’s head, “Although…” His voice is low, and it stirs something in Tatsuma’s belly, “asking you would be much faster” his breath ghosts over Tatsuma’s lips.

Suddenly, quicker than Tatsuma’s brain can register at that moment, Fujimoto moves away out of his personal space, hands on his hips, “So, where is it?” He grins.

Tatsuma growls, lunging forward, and Fujimoto laughs, “What’s this? Gonna fight me?” He reaches into the front of his robe, where he keeps his vajra club, it’s not much, but it’s sharp. Fujimoto laughs again, then grunts and bends forward, clutching his ribs. “Shit!” He grinds out, and Tatsuma hesitates.

“Fuji…” he starts to say, but Fujimoto straightens up and dashes from the room. “Wait!” Tatsuma calls after him, and Fujimoto ignores him, grabbing for the next set of shoji along, “No, not in there!” He reaches him, and grabs his sleeve, but it’s too late.

Fujimoto freezes as he opens the door. The room is deathly quiet save from the murmuring of a monk, Honda, kneeling by the fire at the very back. Thirty-seven people lay on futons in the dark, their faces and bodies obscured by miasma pustules, purple and red. Tatsuma closes his eyes.

“What the fuck is this?” Fujimoto says, then, louder, “What is going on here?” He stalks towards the back of the room, Tatsuma following, increasing his grip on the man’s sleeve.

“Fujimoto, wait!”

“What is this bullshit?” Fujimoto whirls round to face Tatsuma, gesturing to the room at large, Honda stops chanting, facing the scene with wide eyes.

“Don’t stop!” Tatsuma says, but Fujimoto turns back and kicks over the platform that holds the kindling for the fire, and the logs hit the floor with a deafening clatter, “What have you done! If we stop praying, then..."

Fujimoto grabs the front of his robe and leans in close, but it’s very different from the way he did earlier, “What have your prayers done for these people?”

“I…”

“You’re a coward, Tatsuma Suguro” Fujimoto says, “posing as a Saint. It’s people like you I hate the most” Tatsuma’s eyes widen. “You can’t just pray this away; we need to remove the toxins from their bodies if they have any hope of survival”

“Wait…can you help them?”

Fujimoto sighs like he’s bored, “I can try.” He whirls back to point at Honda, “Hey, you! Bring me some radish, onion, valerian, myrtle root, rock salt and eagle’s claw!” He reels off quickly, “and some beeswax…or lard will do” He stares at Honda’s confused face for a second before barking, “Go!”

The monk pushes past Tatsuma as he hurries from the room. “Wait” Tatsuma says, “Can you really help them?”

“Shit!” Fujimoto says, “I said I can try, didn’t I? Now shut up and get me as much boiled water as you can” Tatsuma turns to go, but Fujimoto grips his arm. “And Tatsuma?” he says, soft, his eyes flicking from Tatsuma’s eyes to his mouth and back again, and then gestures to the cigarette clamped between his teeth, “get me a light, would you?”

 

*

 

Tatsuma watches in awe as Fujimoto works tirelessly, mixing the ingredients into a paste, cleaning up the blisters on the miasma victims faces, and encourages them to drink the mixture once it’s ready.

He’s shocked to his core, if Fujimoto can really save them with medicine, then what have they been doing all this time?

His arms ache from the kettles of water he’s been constantly boiling for hours, but that’s nothing compared to the ache in his heart when he sits and watches Fujimoto mop Torako’s brow, and leans in, pressing his ear to the swell of her belly, the lines of his face relaxing as he listens to the tiny heartbeat of Tatsuma’s child.

_“All I know is, the top brass want the sword to kill some kid”_

 

*

 

“You look uneasy” Fujimoto says, settling beside Tatsuma on the roka, just outside of the room they were keeping him in while he was unconscious.

“You…in a matter of hours, did what we have been trying to do for years”

“Hmm” Fujimoto hums, looking up at the night sky, exhaling smoke from his nose. Tatsuma watches it curl up into the dark, “What you guys do here…” He sighs, “I’m not saying belief and prayers are wrong, trust me, but relying on only that is archaic”

“I know.” Tatsuma whispers.

“Huh?”

“Lately I’ve felt that what we do isn’t enough. I even told my father, but he refuses to listen”

“Ahh, so you’re a rebel” Fujimoto says, “I had no idea, Baldy”

“Don’t call me that!” Tatsuma exclaims, “Just when I start to respect you a little, you wreck it”

Fujimoto places a hand on top of Tatsuma’s head, “When did I say it was a bad thing?”

He moves his hand gently to brush his fingers against the shell of Tatsuma’s ear, and down to cup his jaw lightly. Tatsuma feels his face heat up, even as Fujimoto turns away to flick his cigarette into the snow and stands up, stretching. “There’s not much we can do now, until morning” He says, “come here a sec”

Tatsuma stands and follows Fujimoto into the room, its dark, and as soon as he slides the shoji closed Fujimoto kisses him.

It’s feather-light, and Tatsuma can feel his pulse in his ears, “wait…Fujimoto…” he says half-heartedly, and lets the man kiss him again.

They move across to the futon as Fujimoto places kiss along Tatsuma’s jaw, “I’ve wanted this for a while, Tatsuma Suguro” He murmurs, his voice low.

Tatsuma barks out a laugh and feels a little like he’s going out of his mind, “Do you mean, since only this morning?”

Fujimoto pushes him down gently, “That’s a while”

It’s too dark to see anything but an outline as Fujimoto settles over him, and Tatsuma lets his hands slide up the man’s sides. Fujimoto smells like herbs and cigarette smoke and it’s intoxicating. “Watching you save all those people today…” He whispers, but it turns into a grunt as Fujimoto pushes a knee between his thighs. “O-oh” He stutters, and Fujimoto kisses him again, deeply, and pushes forward with his hips.

Tatsuma moans into Fujimoto’s mouth, and the friction is making him breathe harshly through his nose. His hands scrabble across the other man’s back, trying to find purchase. Fujimoto kneels up at that, and Tatsuma can just make out the silhouette of him taking off his yukata.

“My father always tells me I must relinquish any desire”

“That sounds awfully dull. Are you really going to talk about your father right now?” Fujimoto says, as he settles back on top of Tatsuma, and licks along the line of his throat.

“No”

“Good” Fujimoto pitches forward with his hips again, and this time, Tatsuma scratches into his back. Fujimoto groans deep and long into his ear, and Tatsuma thinks he’ll come undone with just that.

Fujimoto pushes Tatsuma’s robes aside and takes them both in his hand. It feels impossibly hot and slick and as he pumps his hand along both their lengths Tatsuma lets out an embarrassing sound that he prays Fujimoto didn’t hear.

“Lift your hips a little” Fujimoto positions Tatsuma’s legs around his waist and anchors his hands on the floor either side of Tatsuma’s head. “Now, lift your hips up as I push down” He says, breathy, and then, “Oh, fuck” as Tatsuma thrusts upwards and their lengths push together, “keep doing just that”

They keep up the slow rhythm until it becomes almost unbearable. Tatsuma sheds the rest of his clothing and even though the winter chill fills the room his skin feels impossibly hot.

Fujimoto presses his lips along Tatsuma’s jaw, and catches his earlobe between his teeth. Tatsuma’s breathing feels so loud in his own ears.

“Fujimoto” He breathes, “…I need…” He moves to put his hand between them but Fujimoto moves it away, and grips both of them himself, pumping harshly, and kissing Tatsuma hard, like he’s trying to swallow down the sounds he can’t help making.

Their teeth clack together painfully as Tatsuma gasps from the force of his release, and Fujimoto mutters a drawn out “fffuck” as he comes soon after, and all that fills the room then is the sounds of their breathing. 

 

*

 

As Tatsuma walks through the compound the next morning something inside him feels looser, lighter.

He watches Hojo Mamushi make a face at the mixture her father is making her drink and he can’t help but laugh. She’s definitely back to her usual fussy self.

Torako is sitting up when he reaches her room, and when she turns and smiles at him he feels tears spring to his eyes.

“Torako” He breathes. He doesn’t notice that Fujimoto has followed him into the room until he speaks.

“Looks like my work was successful”

Tatsuma drops to his knees and wraps his arms around his wife, “Torako, I’m so relieved”

“Tatsuma” She says, “am…am I still able to have our child?” She sniffs, “I didn’t think either of us would make it”

“Oh, Torako, of course you can” He rests his hand on the swell of her belly and feels the weak but definite movement of their baby, “I’m glad. I’m so glad”

He turns then, to look up at Fujimoto. He’s standing by the door still, his arms folded and his eyes hard. Tatsuma’s heart thumps guiltily.

“Fujimoto” He says softly, his hands gripping Torako’s shoulders a little tighter.

“So” Fujimoto says, his face slipping easily into his smirk, “As I saved all those people and taught you the treatment” He leers down at Tatsuma, “I’d say you owe me”

“Huh?” Tatsuma gets to his feet and scowls, “What do you mean?”

Fujimoto pushes off of the wall and scratches his jaw. He shrugs one shoulder lazily, “Give me the sword”

“…Tatsuma?” Torako asks quietly.

“Just rest” Tatsuma places a gentle hand on her head before he turns and shoves Fujimoto from the room, “What are you playing at? I thought…”

“You thought your body would be sufficient?” Tatsuma shushes him, looking around wildly. “Don’t worry; I won’t say anything to your wife”

“That’s not the point! Torako knows that I…” Tatsuma frowns, “I thought you were a good person, not just a thief”

Fujimoto laughs but there’s no humour in it, “Man, I really do hate guys like you” He shoulders past Tatsuma, “I’m not a good person. I’ll find the sword myself, shit, you’ll never get anywhere if you’re afraid of getting your hands dirty”

Tatsuma turns and they both freeze. His father stands at the other end of the roka, flanked on both sides by Hojo and other monks from the order, including Honda. Hojo summons a Naga at Tatsuma’s father’s request. It hisses and curls back on itself, waiting for the order to strike.

“Father, wait!” Tatsuma says.

“That’s him” Honda says, pointing at Fujimoto.

“Shit” Fujimoto says, and starts to run, monks on his tail immediately.

“Don’t let him leave here alive!” His father commands as Tatsuma protests.

“Father, what are you doing?” He cries, “That man saved all those people! Torako…”

His father sneers at him, “That doesn’t matter! You brought a heretic into our temple, an exorcist from the Knights of the True Cross, no less! You will be reprimanded for this”

“We’re indebted to him! They would have all died if he hadn’t…” Tatsuma tries to grab his father’s sleeve but the man smacks his hands away.

“We must kill anyone who learns of the Koma sword and its secrets” His father says, eyes wild, “We have a duty to protect Myodha”

“You want to protect our secrets!” Tatsuma says, “But…I want to protect our people!” He looks over his shoulder, towards the distant sounds of shouting, “I’m different, father”

He turns and starts running. 

*

 

The snow is deep further into the woods, and it takes a while for Tatsuma to catch up to Fujimoto.

The others are further behind, Fujimoto probably laid a distraction, somehow, to lure them off his tail. “Fujimoto” He says, watching the other man pause. His breathing is ragged and he’s clutching at his ribs. Some of his sutures must have reopened.

“Tatsuma” He grinds out, “What are you doing?”

“Here” Tatsuma takes the sword from where it’s hung round his shoulder and throws it in Fujimoto’s direction, and though the man is injured, he catches it easily in one hand, “take it”

“…The Koma sword?”

“I’ll show you the way off of the mountain” Tatsuma says, turning to go, but Fujimoto catches his wrist. His fingers are icy.

“Wait” Fujimoto says, “Are you sure?”

Tatsuma smiles, “I drew the sword once, you know, when I was a child. I’d grown up hearing my father’s stories about Karura. I wanted to see it” He sighs, and Fujimoto grips his wrist tighter, his thumb against Tatsuma’s pulse point, “But there were no flames, no Karura…nothing. Just a sword, I’ve known all this time”

“Tatsuma…”

“I’m tired. I’m done worshipping a shell. I’m ready to do something truly important, to fight” He smiles gently at Fujimoto, “thanks to you”

Fujimoto pulls gently at his wrist, draws him in. His hands are cold but his body generates warmth. He presses his forehead against Tatsuma’s. “I’m going to kill a kid with this you know”

“Hmm” Tatsuma hums, letting his eyes fall closed, “I don’t think you will. I don’t think you can” He feels the brush of Fujimoto’s lips against his, barely there, and a warm puff of cigarette smoke breath and he leans into it just as Fujimoto pulls away.

A shout of “he went this way!” echoes through the trees.

“They’re coming, go!” Tatsuma points down the side of the mountain, where the trees begin to thin, “that’s the way out” He pauses, then says, “I guess this makes us even”

“No” Fujimoto murmurs, running his thumb along the line of Tatsuma’s bottom lip, “This makes us friends” He smirks, then, and salutes a farewell, and then he’s gone.

Tatsuma touches his face, where the ghost of icy fingers still lingers as the others catch up.

**Author's Note:**

> *Tyra Banks meme voice*  
> Tatsuma's letter to Rin, but make it gay.


End file.
